The Distance Between The Partners
by rhea michelle malone
Summary: Brennan is gone on buisness for three months and Booth is kickin it in DC. They both have to deal with the other's absence and with the help of some unlikely people, they may get a heavy dose of introspectivness. Alternating POVs Last chapter rated T.
1. Day One: Departure

**So I recently wrote, 'The Songs in His Mind' and began writing a 'What's going on with Brennan during all of this?' Sort of fic and then I decided, screw this, Ima start a whole nother story. And thus, A fanfic is born!**

**This will be a multi-chapter! ****I will most likely alternate from Brennan's side of the story to Booth's side of the story and so on and so forth (there may even be a dash of Angela and a sprinkle of Parker). ****So read and if you like: review, if you don't: _Constructive_ Critisism is always a guest in my house:)**

**Disclaimer: ****There once was a woman who lived in a shoe she had so many children she said, FOX owns Bones, not me or the girl who's writing this. **

* * *

Her face told him a story. "I have so much more to say." It informed him. But her mouth uttered only two words.

* * *

The woman at the desk was calling for first class to board. She stood and so did he. Her bags lay silently at her feet and she looked to him, waiting for him to initiate the painful farewell.

"It's gonna be weird without you at the lab everyday." He finally spoke, his eyes solemn and alone.

"It'll only be three months. I'll be back by October. That and you'll have my entire team of grad students there to help you." She tried her best to reassure the both of them.

"It'll still be weird." The right corner of his mouth twitched up, as if he was forcing a half-smile. She was tired of the pain she was bringing upon him (and herself), so she reached out and hugged him, her arms wrapped around his neck, resting on his shoulders, her chestnut brown hair splayed against his chest. They could've stayed wrapped up in the moment forever but the woman's voice wafted through the air yet again.

"Last call for first class boarding South African Airlines Flight 227, Last call for first class boarding South African Airlines Flight 227." The click of the intercom sounded and she slowly released him, aching to stay in his arms forever, wrapped in his emotions and warmth. He picked up her bags and walked her to the entrance of the tunnel leading to plane. She handed her ticket to the man at the gate and turned to him.

Her face was conflicted. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but instead she uttered two, meek words.

"Goodbye, Booth." She whispered in a pitch that was hardly audible. He nodded and gave a slight smile. A smile that itched with sadness.

She started down the tunnel and after a few feet turned her head around and waved. He waved back. She drank in his image and stored it away in the back of her mind, where her most important memories were kept.

* * *

**It's tiny, but what can I say, I like keeping my chapters short.**

**Anyway, the Chapter two should be up soon, probably tommorow. (Schools out in one day!!!)**

**~Rhea~**

******Booth**: Such as, you know, FBI guys are hot and Angela here wants to have sex with me.

**Angela: (nodds and mumbles sarcastically) Yep, see. **


	2. Day Six: Alone

**Here we go! chapter 2, just like I promised! And as an added plus, FINALS ARE OVER!!!! (Now it's off to band camp for me)**

**anyway, this one is Booth's Side Of The Story(SOTS, if you will). **

**Another, verrrry short chapter. **

* * *

Booth felt like a loser. Which was unusual because Booth was normally very much a winner. He was, after all, Special Agent Seeley Booth with the world at his fingertips and justice balanced evenly on his shoulders, he was a dad who was idolized and looked up to by his son as some kind of a superhero and he was an overall outgoing, charming, handsome, hilarious guy with seductive chocolaty brown eyes with flickering amber tints that danced when he laughed and a fascinating grin that made women melt in their tracks.

Or so he told himself when he was looking into the mirror after a particularly stressful morning (one in which he found a gray hair or a crease in his forehead that hadn't been as apparent the day before) or when his confidence was beat. Usually, this technique worked, but today he just felt like a loser.

It was a lazy Saturday evening and he was kicked back on the couch in an off white muscle shirt and his old, faded navy blue sweats, with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. The hockey game played on the TV, but it was really just background noise to his own thoughts.

* * *

He felt awkward. Not in any particular area of his life, but just in general. Mostly, he didn't like going to work. He had a _ton _of old paperwork to catch up on, sure, but he would sit at his desk anxiously awaiting Charlie's small frame to burst into the room.

"We've got a case, Agent Booth. Dr. Brennan has been notified and she'll meet you at the crime scene." He would declare. Booth would nod and keep a professional aura, but when Charlie left his office; his face would light up in excitement. They had a case.

For the past few days he would sit there and wait, looking up subconsciously at the ticking Philadelphia Flyers clock. Itching for an investigation to pop up. Knowing poignantly that one would not come. Or, at least not one that required the expertise of his lady scientist- and even if she was needed, she was off in Africa. For three months. It would be disappointment all around for him.

Another thing that made him ill at ease was going out to eat. It didn't feel right. He usually went out every once and awhile to an actual restaurant and almost every weekday headed down to the diner for coffee and sometimes eggs or something light. (Occasionally he ate dinner there, but only with another person, never by himself). It had only been six days since she'd left, but already, he'd driven to the Royal Diner. He'd sat in his car for a couple minutes, debating in his mind. He decided not to go in. He turned the key and backed out. It felt wrong going there by himself.

* * *

Booth finished off his third beer and, noting the score, clicked the TV off, lowering his hand almost to the floor and allowing the black brick of plastic to softly hit the ground. He was truly restless. He felt trapped in his own mind. He threw his hands over his eyes and lay there on the couch, waiting for time to fly by around him so life could go back to normal.

After awhile of trying not to think (which is a paradox in it's self), sleep overtook him, throwing him to a violent mess of dreams and hopes and wishes and anxiety and frustrations. Yes, he couldn't wait for October to come.

* * *

**There ya Go!!!**

**~Rhea~ **

**"...and this time, art made science her bitch!"- Angela**


	3. Day Three: Radius

**And now, since I've had to unbearably short chapters, a long chapter! dun duh! **

**I don't own any of the characters on Bones except the one I just made up! **

* * *

It had taken them awhile to get here. Here, being a hot, dry portion of the continent that seemed as if it went on forever and that if you stayed here for too long, you could possibly melt into the ground and be stuck. She wasn't sure why she got that feeling, but it came to her.

Brennan slicked her chestnut brown hair into a high ponytail, showing off her eye-catching jaw bone. Her forehead and the back of her neck were already beaded with sweat, which was, to her, a clear indication of the temperature. _Somewhere over ninety, probably above one hundred_, _as well._ She noted as she felt that her upper lip was also moist with sweat. Brennan saw that she was rapidly approaching the sight, as the tents and supplies became bigger and the distance between herslef and the pit became smaller.

"…They recommend that you drink a minimum of three quarts of water a day, as it gets very hot out here." The man walking next to her went on. She had known he was talking, but didn't pay attention, she'd heard all of this many times before and wasn't in need of a refresher.

They soon reached the site and Brennan placed her hands on her hips, her blue eyes wandering and observing every single detail of the pit that lay in front of them. After a minute of her hawk like eyes on the prowl, she stepped over to a plastic portable table and removed her bag from her shoulders. She set the tan messenger bag down and began digging through it for gloves.

At long last, she found the plastic, zip lock bag that contained her blue latex darlings. She opened it up and dug her hand inside, reaching for a pair. She wasn't looking at the bag; she was looking at the pit, anxious, as always, to begin working. In doing so, she didn't notice the white piece of paper that had been folded over neatly into a tiny square and secretly slipped into her glove bag.

* * *

Brennan carefully climbed down about ten feet and rejoiced silently when the souls of her tennis shoes touched the floor of sand and dirt. She loved being out here. This was what she was trained to do, solve age old mysteries and finally give families an opportunity to see what happened, to unlock histories most violent secrets. This, being out in a boiling, sweaty, grimy pit filled with decomposed bodies, was what she was meant to do. She was excited.

It's not like she didn't enjoy solving modern day cases with the FBI or identifying remains from limbo, it's just that she preformed her duties at the Institute day in and day out. It was just nice to switch things up every once and awhile.

In fact, she was so preoccupied; she forgot the stress her daily life brought her, which was nice because missing was much more painful than forgetting.

* * *

"Hey, can you hand me that Radius? I'm not certain, but I'm pretty sure it goes with this guy over here." A female voice called to her. Brennan turned around to see a tall, slim young woman with glimmering blonde hair that fell to her elbows and a very fair complexion. The woman smiled at her, wiping the her forehead with the back of her hand, smearing dirt across her face in the process.

"Sure. How do you suspect the Radius found its way over here?" She asked curiously, pulling at the camera around her neck.

She set up small white 'L' shaped piece of plastic that had lines like a ruler. The camera clicked and she took one more for good measure, and then set the device back around her neck. She bent down and carefully picked up the arm bone, which was fully uncovered by dirt, but still stained a grisly shade of tan.

She was careful where she stepped and approached the woman, handing her the Radius, which did appear to complete the set of remains she was working on.

"Can't say yet..." She finally answere Brennan's question.

The woman crouched on her knees, looking up and taking the arm bone with gratitude.

"Thank you." She smiled to Bones, pushing some of her golden hair behind her ear.

"You're very welcome." Brennan turned to begin her work, but the girl stopped her.

"You're Dr. Brennan, right?" She asked.

"Yes." She replied, then turned away, walking back to her starting place, she didn't want to talk about anything irrelevant while she was working.

The woman just watched her walk away, shook her head slightly and went back to her bones.

* * *

In her eyes, the day had gone well. She didn't talk to anyone, other than to call out orders. She's examined three sets of remains and had actually identified one with a name. The other two were still John Does. She'd drank plenty of water and it didn't appear that her fair skin had burned at all, other than the skim of pink on top of cheeks and under her eyes. And up until now, no one had bothered her.

"So is it true what they say about you?" The blonde girl asked as she swallowed the last of her beans. Brennan had been picking at her ham and debating whether or not to eat it. She looked up from her plate when she heard the musical tone of her voice.

"Is what true?" She asked back cautiosly.

"They say you're a real cold fish." The girl explained with a straight face. Brennan's eyebrows muffled together slightly and her mouth pinched up. She knew people talked about her, but she didn't appreciate abruptness (even if it _was_ her own MO).

"I don't believe that's my area to judge. You form your own opinion about me." Brennan chose her words carefully. The girl's straight face didn't back down, she kept staring at Brennan as if she was trying to figure something out. Neither of them said anything else to the other for awhile. soon the rest of the team finished their small meal and packed up for bed.

"I think you are." She finally decided.

"Think I am what?" Brennan responded, already knowing the answer. By this time, they were alone under the tent.

"I think you _are_ a cold fish." The girls face didn't break.

Brennan's eyes went ablaze and she felt a surge of irritation flow through her. She didn't like be underestimated. People always assumed that she was a cold, heartless person just because she liked to focus on her work.

If they just got to know her and learned how to work with her, they'd understand that she's got a real personality and she's a real human under the outer shell of her personality. _Her friends and coworkers at the Jeffersonian had broken through to her. Booth had broken through to her lively side on many an occasion._ She thought, trying to keep her irritation from manifesting into sheer anger.

"What is this, some kind of social, ritual in which you insult the other person to the point that are angry at you and eventually open up to you?" Brennan spat. She watched the corners of the girl's mouth quiver upward and her gray eyes seemed to dance in suppressed laughter. Brennan sighed.

"That is exactly what it is, Dr. Brennan." The girl grinned.

Brennan's face softened. She was one of those people.

"Do you do this to everyone?" She asked. The girl tore down her ponytail and shook her lengthy hair out.

"No. I only do it when I know precisely which buttons to push." She responded.

"Makes sense." Brennan commented, finally taking a small bite of ham, then wishing she hadn't.

"I'm sorry; I forgot to introduce myself to you." She stuck her hand out.

"Deni. Deni Masters." She smiled.

"That's an interesting name. French for 'Lover of Wine.'" Brennan commented, taking the girls hand.

"It's not my real name. I changed it because 'Rebecca' seemed to plain for me." Brennan nodded.

She thought back to how different life would be if her name was 'Joy'. She shuttered at the notion. She was most certainly not a 'Joy' type of person. She was a 'Temperance'.

For once, she didn't question other peoples reasoning, she understood it.

"So what's your story?" Deni asked, unaware of how loaded that particular question was.

* * *

**Oh, the million dollar question! **

**Chapter four will be up soon and hopefully I will have Booth and Brennan caught up on the same number of days.**

**~Rhea~**

**Hodgins (via cell phone): "...tongue kiss the Maid of Honor** **at the reception." **

**Booth: "Who's the Maid of Honor?" **

**Brennan: "I'm the Maid of Honor." **

**Booth: (Shocked Face;)**


	4. Day Eight: Psychology

**Here we go, chapter four! **

**This one is Booth's side of the Story, with a little insight from another character. Read. Enjoy (or totally hate). Review. **

**Disclaimer: Again, don't own Bones. **

* * *

"Why am I here?" Booth asked, annoyed that he was sitting across from a twelve year old with a couple doctorates, getting ready to talk about his feelings and crap, on a Monday night, after everyone else in the world had gone home and caught up on this little thing called 'sleep'. But then, he had nothing better to do.

"That would be a question to ask yourself, Agent Booth." Sweets replied, the normal tinge of curiosity and confidence in his dark eyes. Booth squinted at the curly haired psychologist.

"What do you mean?" He finally asked.

"Well, technically, this is _couples _counseling-"

"Partners Therapy." Booth cut in. Sweets raised an eyebrow, but continued.

"This is 'Partners Therapy' and the word partner…or couple, usually means more than one. Now, I haven't known you very long, but I am aware that you view our sessions as a chore and that you try to get out of them as much as possible." Sweets finished. Booth shifted in his seat.

"I'm here because," Booth paused to think, but jumped right back in to his explanation quickly, "I assumed that if I didn't attend our previously scheduled meeting you wouldn't profile for us anymore." His gleamed in accomplishment- thinking he may have actually pulled one over on the doc.

Sweets just nodded acceptingly, pretending to buy into his explanation. Normally, he would have protested, but if he had, Booth would just leave-which was exactly what he didn't want. He had a few questions he'd kept locked up in that brain of his that he fully intended to whip out tonight. (Or at least he'd whip out one before Agent Booth got annoyed at him enough to leave…)

"Okay, Agent Booth," Sweets turned to seize his notepad from his desk, "Let's begin from the beginning. When did you and Dr. Brennan meet?" Sweet's eyes glimmered in mischief and curiosity.

More often than not, Booth would have protested, or avoided the question or got up to leave, but again, what else was he going to do if he left? After about two minutes of contemplating on whether or not to tell Sweets the sad little tale of how the partners met, he gave in.

* * *

It had been four and half years ago. The first thing he heard that dull morning was Cullen's voice.

"Booth, I'm promoting you." It rang through his ears and shot energy through every vein in his body. He jumped up from his cramped desk and eagerly shook the mans hand. He'd been working so hard for this, ever since he'd taken his position as mail sorter and desk jockey three years before.

"Thank you, sir!" He exclaimed, his eyes two shades brighter than usual, making them a golden amber color.

"You can start on Monday. You'll need all your stuff in your new office by tomorrow, so I suggest you stay late and pack up." He motioned towards Booth's tiny, cluttered cubicle.

"Where's my new office, sir?" He asked, not at all hiding the excitement in his voice. Finally, he got an _office_, a real office! Cullen pointed to a spacious room down the hall, tucked into the corner of the building.

"Sir, isn't that Charlie Fallon's office?"

"_Was _Charlie Fallon's office. He requested to be moved to another department, making _you_ director of the homicide unit." Booth's eyes almost popped out of his head, but he regained his composure and asked,

"Why did Agent Fallon asked to be removed?"

"Harassment in the workplace." Was all Cullen said. Booth nodded, wondering what exactly he was getting himself into. Cullen began to walk off, but then stopped and turned around.

"Booth, have you ever read Shakespeare?"

"Sort of…" Truth be told. he was usually staring at Kayla McClellan during Literature.

"Have you ever read 'The Taming of the Shrew'?" Cullen asked.

"To be honest sir, I'm not familiar with that one."

"Oh. Well…" He walked off, leaving Booth to wonder, yet again, what the hell he was getting himself into.

* * *

"Interesting Agent Booth." Sweets commented, scribbling down a few things in his notes. Booth nodded and ran his tongue over his chapped lips, ready to continue.

* * *

"Listen, when you go to meet Dr. Brennan, just remember: A) Don't stare, B) Don't ask any questions, just say your name politely and tell her that you will be the new FBI liaison to the Jeffersonian, C) Don't 'demean the Institute' as she likes to say, D) Do not, DO NOT, Let me repeat myself, _DO NOT _touch her. By any means. Don't even shake her hand, unless of course she offers you to- which she won't." Charlie Fallon warned, giving Booth the heads up on his new 'sort-of' partner.

"Come on, she can't be _that_ bad." He joked, hoping that if he said it out loud, it would be true.

"Seeley Booth, let me tell you now, you are walking toward your death. That woman will make you go _crazy_." He warned one last time before the elevator made its usual ding and the doors spread apart. Booth stepped inside and nodded to his predecessor.

"Thanks Charlie." He told him as the door closed.

* * *

Sweets scribbled feverishly on his pad. Automatically, Booth knew that he was going to uncover some deep, hidden secret about him. Or worse, about _them_.

"Please continue Agent Booth." Sweets urged. Booth nodded and picked up.

* * *

Booth placed his hands firmly on his hips, pushing back his suit coat so that his newly polished gun was gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the spacious Institute. He wasn't exactly sure where he'd find Dr. Brennan, but he had a picture and an office number, and based on the way Charlie had warned him, her personality was quite striking. He looked up from where he stood and saw a large, gleaming platform that took up most of the building. Other than that, there wasn't much except for Offices lining each wall. But he'd read up on this place and knew that not only was it the largest museum in the world, but it also contained over forty two different buildings specifically for research.

He began walking and decided that it would be best to find people and ask for directions, so he began to wonder up the steps to the platform.

"Stop!" He heard a female voice demand. Booth froze in panic, his first day on the job and he was already doing everything wrong. Figures.

"How dare you!" The same voice hollered. Just then, the owner of the voice came trampling down the steps. He recognized the face right away, but he glanced down at the picture in his hand to confirm.

Yep.

"Dr. Brennan, so nice to meet you." Booth smiled, extending his hand, and then taking it back, remembering the words Charlie had repeated time and time again.

"You could have compromised remains. Do you even realized what would have happened if you had taken three more steps? Your germs and DNA would be all over evidence! The defense would think that you tried to sabotage! Do you know how hard that is to try in court??" She spat. He just kept a straight face, waiting for someone, anyone to come to his rescue. His prayers were answered by the clicking sounds of high heels gliding down the steps.

"Sweetie," The woman had a slight drawl to her voice, but not a hick type drawl, just elongated vowels. She was tall had on some type of pink dress, "You can't expect everyone on this Earth to know the rules about not stepping on the platform." She tried her hardest to calm Dr. Brennan down.

"Hi, I'm Angela. Montenegro. You must be the new Agent." She smiled rather genuinely at Booth. She extended her hand and he took it.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth." He reached down and flashed his badge.

"How about we go to Dr. Brennan's office, " She gave her friend a stern look, "and talk this all over." She suggested. Booth nodded and Dr. Brennan stuck out her lower jaw. Angela led the anthropologist down to her office, with the FBI guy in tow.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Sweets, but can I just skip to the end. All we did once we got to her office was talk. Well, she argued, but still."

"Of course, Agent Booth." Sweets nodded.

* * *

They had just finished discussing when they would be working together and Dr. Brennan had launched into a tangent about how her skills were 'indispensable' and that she should not be 'loaned out to the FBI like some kind of library book' and she began to dart off. For whatever reason, Booth grabbed her wrist. That one moment would easily go down as the biggest mistake in the history of his life.

The rage in her blue eyes was like a vicious thunderstorm. She froze dead in her tracks and turned slowly to see his face. There was a bomb about to go off inside her and it took only seconds for Booth be on the ground, clutching his groin and groaning because he was in the middle of the most pain he'd experienced since the first time he was tortured back in Afghanistan when he was twenty years old.

* * *

"She did that to you?" Sweets asked, taken aback, then scribbling like an insane person on his pad of paper.

"Yeah and I didn't touch her for almost a year after that." He commented innocently.

"But you touch her now?" Sweets snagged onto that one sentence as if his life depended on it.

"Well, yeah." He shrugged.

"How?"

"Well, like normal people touch each other. You know, brush arms, if she's in danger or whatever, I pull her closer so she won't get hurt, obviously." Sweets scribbled away.

"So, she went from kicking you in the manhood when you touch her to enjoying it?" Sweets asked.

"I never said she enjoyed me touching her."

"Agent Booth," Sweets began, deciding once and for all to set him straight. He was about to launch into an explanation.

If Dr. Brennan didn't want to be touched, she would say so. She was a woman who did not ordinarily keep her opinions to herself, so obviously she didn't mind- and if the research he'd been collecting over the years had been accurate, she defiantly enjoyed it. She had evolved. She went from hating her pet name to finding a sense of pride in it, she went from being angry with an empty life being momentarily filled with work to a happy, sometimes overly pragmatic, women who had a full life with friends and a family (sort of) and a partner who cared deeply for her, but who wouldn't admit it.

She, with his help, had evolved. He just didn't realize it, and he suspected she didn't either. He wished they'd just open up there eyes and see what was standing right in front of them, dangerously close.

Unfortunately, Sweets was cut off by the blaring ring of Booth's cell phone.

"I'll be there in twenty." He confirmed, putting on his jacket and flipping shut his phone.

"Sorry, kid, but I've got a case." He gave Sweets a playful whack on the shoulder and opened the door to leave.

The Psychologist just frowned and looked down at his notes. Six pages from that one little story. He sighed and closed the notepad. It was pointless. He couldn't help them on this journey; they'd obviously have to make it happen themselves.

* * *

**Poor Booth, so bored he goes to Sweets for company:)**

**Anyway, I'm not sure B/B will ever be caught up on dates until the end, so the day numbers will almost never be in numerical order (in case you were wondering). **

**Thank you for reading!**

**~Rhea~ **

**Bones: would you like to marry me? **

**Booth: that's pretty sudden Bones why don't you let me think about it?**

**Bones: No, that's what Angela said to Hodgins.**

**Booth: It's a joke, Bones, a joke.**

**Bones: Many psychologist say that jokes are the way we manifest hidden desires. **

**Booth: (Gets flustered, blushes and trips in a puddle:)**


	5. Day Six: Questions

**Here we go! Chapter 5:) **

**read and review, if you please!**

* * *

"What's one thing you've never told anyone?" Deni asked, her blue eyes aglow, eagerly awaiting an answer. She was sitting cross legged on her cot, in a camisole and a dusty pair of cheer shorts. Temperance sat in the cot next to her, lying down and trying to catch and inkling of sleep. This proved to be a challenge with Deni continually asking her random questions that were in no relevant to the task they were trying to accomplish.

"Deni, this game is stupid." She mumbled. Deni looked taken aback.

"It most certainly is not! We're discovering your personality through your answers." She smiled.

Brennan sighed.

"You sound like Sweets." She grinned a little.

"Who's Sweets?" Deni asked as she pulled her long hair into a ponytail.

"He's a psychologist." She answered wistfully, and for the first time she felt a faint hint of homesickness. A small shower of gloom fell over her as she remembered sitting next to Booth in the big chairs, staring down the young, curly haired boy. She could almost hear Booth's cell phone blare and see him jump up, clutching her by the wrist and pulling her up with him.

"Gotta go, Sweets, we've got a case." He'd exclaim as they ran out the door.

She closed her eyelids, but her brain kept hearing Deni, who was talking about something, not realizing that the person she was talking to was almost asleep. After several minutes of staring at her eyelids, she sat up. There was no point in trying to sleep. It would never come anyway.

"What was the question?" Brennan asked, unaware that it had been twenty minutes since it had been asked.

"What question…oh, that one!" Deni grasped, "The question was: What is one thing you've never told anyone?"

"Um…" Brennan had to think. She didn't ordinarily keep secrets from anyone. If she had something to say, it usually came up in a conversation, or else she'd just say it out of the blue. She thought back to the times she'd said something 'taboo' about herself. There was one in particular that had come to a complete shock to her coworkers not to long ago. She furrowed her brows.

"I don't keep secrets." She finally answered. Deni shook her head in disbelief.

"There has to be at_ least _one, Dr. Brennan!" She exclaimed. Brennan just shook her head, glancing down at her watch (which was hardly visible in the darkness). Two thirty pm.

Wonderful.

"You know, I think we should go to bed. We've got to get up tomorrow and examine remains- and Johnston told me that if we finish before the three month deadline, we can leave for home early." Brennan tried to win Deni over with the enticing idea of leaving this place.

"No, I'm not going to sleep until you answer the question. And if I don't go to sleep, I'm gonna keep you up all night." She squinted her eyes.

"I don't have anything to answer with." Brennan snapped.

"Yes, everyone has skeletons in their closet." She whispered smoothly, almost in a playfully seductive way. Brennan heaved an annoyed, tired sigh.

"My parents abandoned me when I was fifteen." She admitted.

"That's not 'one thing you've _never_ told _anyone_'. It's in your bio on your fan site!"

"Fine." She pondered for an answer. "When I was an adolescent, I used to do hard drugs." She lied. Deni's eyes narrowed to slits.

"You're lying."

"No, no I'm not." She defended, pulling her thin blanket over her.

"Dr. Brennan, I minored in psychology, I can tell when a person is lying."

"Well, then you didn't do very well in psychology, did you? Because _I _am not lying." She continued, sinking her head into the thin pillow (that may as well have been a large T-shirt folded over several times). Deni allowed her to sleep, but she didn't lie down. She remained sitting cross legged on her bed, staring at the tent wall behind Dr. Brennan's cot. Thinking.

She _loved_ psychology. Sometimes, late at night, after she came home and her back ached from leaning over the metal lab table for hour upon hour, she'd lie down on her couch and clasp her hands over her eyes, wondering what life would be like if she had decided to be a psychologist.

She enjoyed Forensic Anthropology, sure, but she was pressured into the field by her father, who'd been a forensic pathologist. She was a thinker at heart, not a 'Bone-Lady'. She liked reaching into someone's mind and saying, "This was in that noggin of yours, and you just never used it because you weren't aware of its presence." She was an introspective person, and she liked others to be introspective as well. She found thrill in learning new things about herself.

But her absolute favorite thing about psychology was being able to see hidden portions of people's thoughts and desires that they were aware of, but didn't want to admit to themselves.

That is what she saw in Dr. Brennan, and she intended to find out what exactly she was keeping locked up in that brain of hers.

* * *

**There you go! As I mentioned previously, I am trying to have a new chapter everyday, but I have gaurd camp all next week, so that may be a bit of a challenge. **

**Booth: I need you to be Dr. Brennan.**

**Zach: I don't know what that means.**


	6. Day Nine: Strange

**Two chapters in one day! Crazy! It's all thanks to you guys! **

**I have gaurd camp next week, so this will probably be the last chapter until next saturday, unless I'm not _completley _exhausted and I can squeeze one in at some point. **

**Also, special thanks to xBonesnCsiMiamifan419x, your reviews have made my day!**

**with that being said, I enjoy reviews, the good the bad and the ugly! (so long as it's constructive, which kind of puts a damper on the whole bad and ugly thing...)**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Bones (but hey, my Birthday is in October and it's on my list, so we'll see).**

* * *

Booth didn't like this. Not one bit.

He stood just inside the Jeffersonian Institute, looking out at the world on display in front of him. Somehow, it seemed so foreign to him, so strange. It was outlandish not having Bones at the lab. It was like pizza without the crust, or a record with_ just _a 'B' side, or beer with no carbonation. The lab without her, he decided, was just a mess of cheese and tomato sauce, not-so-great songs and flat beer. He slid his hands in his pockets and observed for just a while longer.

He saw Hodgins at his station, staring at some weird piece of dirt or God knows what under his microscope, then feverishly writing things on his clipboard, then back to the microscope and so on and so forth. Life as usual.

He noticed Cam leaning over a set of remains; talking to an intern (he couldn't tell which one).

"Cause of death?" she would ask. They'd answer with some heinous, gruesome act of fatal violence. She'd make an ironic or sardonic comment and the prospective squint would say something in return, the comeback depending on the intern of the week. Same old, same old.

He watched as Angela strolled up to Cam and presented her sketch, displaying her usual face of accomplishment at finishing the reconstruction, sickness at the sight and smell of the putrefied corpse lying out in front of her, and sorrow at the fact that whoever this mystery person was had a family who missed him or her dearly.

Booth exhaled slowly and wistfully. It seemed like everyone was taking this fairly well except for him. In fact, it seemed like a normal day at the lab, like no one was missing and everything was perfectly aligned and in place. But to him, something was missing. She was missing.

Booth decided to head up to the platform, mostly so he wouldn't look like some stalker, standing frozen and looking up at people the entire day. He ran his plastic ID card through the scanner and the 'Access Granted' ring that was usually satisfying to him, just felt empty. He bounded up the steps and took his usual place beside Cam, staring down at the body.

It was a typical corpse. Not anything weird like the man-soup they'd found in that bathtub a couple years ago, or the famous 'foaming bones'- (which gave him a reoccurring nightmare he'd rather not discuss.)

He was no expert, but even he knew that the cause of death was a gunshot to the chest and judging by the hole, it had to have been at least a .45.

"Who is he and how did he die?" Booth asked abruptly.

"Good morning to you too." Angela responded dryly, raising her eyebrows.

"His name is Francisco Loran. He was killed by a .45 caliber piercing his heart." Vincent, who was apparently the grad student of the week, replied.

"Did you know-" He began.

"Don't have time for it. Cam, I need phone numbers and addresses for family and coworkers." Booth exclaimed.

"I know the drill. Are you going to interrogate by yourself?" Cam asked.

"I was kind of hoping you'd come with me."

"Can't. I have to supervise Vincent so that any evidence we find will be credible in court. "

"I guess I'll go by myself." He grumbled. That was the last thing Booth wanted to do at that moment. Interrogating had always been a two person thing. Namely, He and Bones (though sometimes Cam or Sweets would accompany him). He did not want to do it alone.

_Oh, get a grip. It's not like she won't ever come back. It'll probably just be this one case and then she'll come home and you'll be partners again. _Booth told himself. _She's just gone for three months. Three months, is all…_His train of thought was interrupted by Angela's smooth, borderline seductive voice.

"I'll go with you, Booth." She suggested pleasantly.

"Okay, grab a coat, we're out of here in five. " He commanded briskly in a less than enthusiastic tone. Angela raised an eyebrow and went to fetch her coat.

"You okay, Seeley?" Cam asked after she'd left.

"I'm fine."

Booth turned away and began walking down the steps. He tried to grasp some sort of self control, but it just wasn't coming to him. He didn't understand what was wrong with him. His coworker had left. So what? No big deal. She'd be back in two months and three weeks. It's not like she was just going to leave him. He was so wrapped up in his emotions and thoughts that he didn't notice that he was walking towards Bones's office.

"You really miss her." Angela commented, empathy evident in her voice. Booth didn't answer; he just walked beside her all the way to the SUV parked outside.

* * *

"You know, it's totally fine to miss your partner." Angela commented out of the blue. They were sitting in his car, driving to a house in Woodbridge, Virginia. Mostly the ride had been silent.

Booth didn't react to her comment.

"You know why you don't want to admit that you miss her?" Booth didn't respond. Angela interpreted his nonresponsiveness as, "Enlighten me, oh great one!"

"It's because you think that if you admit that you miss her, that you are also admitting that you have a thing for her." She teased.

"I do _not _have a thing for Bones." He defended himself, taking his eyes off the road long enough to shoot her a look of irritation with an underbelly of desperateness.

"Me thinks the g-man doth protest too much." She smiled devilishly, facing the front window. Booth shot her another look, then turned back to the road. It was silent for about ten more minutes, then,

"Fine. If I said that I missed her, how would you interpret that?" Angela's eyes purred in amusement.

"I would interpret that as an innocent work relationship between partners who have _no '_sexual-tension' component at _all._" She responded, her words _dripping _in sarcasm

"Well, Good, because I don't miss her."

"Keep telling yourself that, sport." She smirked, leaning forward to turn the volume dial up.

_That's why I'm hot blooded, check it and see  
I got a fever of a hundred and three  
Come on baby, do you do more than dance?  
I'm hot blooded, hot blooded_

"I love this song!" Angela exclaimed, turning it up louder.

Booth clenched his jaw.

* * *

**There we go! a shorter, lighter chapter, in my opinion. **

**Oh, the fact that Vincent was going to say was that Beavers can hold their breath for up to 45 minutes. In case anyone was wondering...**

**Love you all, **

**~Rhea~**

******Cam:** And if it happens again, I will take action. And I'm from New York, so that means I'll take New York action. Am I clear?  
**Brennan:** Not at all.  
**Zack:** I'm from Michigan..


	7. Day Eight: Click

**Hey yall!! Chapter 7 is up:) (shortest chapter intro ever!)**

* * *

"Why don't you have boyfriend?"

The words hit Brennan like a bucket of ice water early in the morning. She didn't expect them at all, as they were walking to the meal tent from the grave site, and it had been completely silent up until this point. It wasn't as if she didn't want to answer, it was that she honestly did not know the answer. She'd asked herself the very same question many a time on those Saturday nights when Angela had burst into her office.

* * *

"Come on, Sweetie, let's hit the town!" She would exclaim, grabbing her by the wrists, trying to pull her out of her desk chair.

"No, Angela, I have to work! I have…things to do!" She would fib. Angela would roll her dark eyes and then, seeing that it was getting late, would decide not to argue because there was little to no point in doing so.

"Okay, Bren. Your call." She'd say in her 'Your-missing-out-on-this-limited-time-offer-of-a-social-life' voice.

* * *

Deni stared at her expectantly.

"Elaborate." She answered in turn. Deni gave her a stern, 'your-trying-to-dodge-my-question' look, but the muscles in her face relaxed.

"Fine." She gave in, "You're in your thirties, you're smart, you're attractive," She grinned,"and yet, you're single. Why?" She inquired for the second time. Brennan stared into the sky. Deni gave an impatient sigh and began to scoop her long hair into a ponytail.

"I don't know." Brennan finally answered, lying through her teeth.

"No." She shook her hair out, "You know what? Forget trying to answer, I'll answer for you." She gave Brennan the same look Angela would shoot her when she was trying to put her life into perspective. Serious eyes, a lowered head, a woeful half frown, the works.

"You don't want to put yourself on the market for two reasons. The first is pretty obvious." Deni finally threw her hair over her shoulder and stopped walking, as they were almost to the tent and she didn't want the conversation to stop just because they'd walked into a room full of people (all of them men who, incoincidentaly, had been hitting on Brennan persistently since the moment she'd set foot on the site).

"It being that you are afraid of solid relationships. You build up barriers to keep people out and you're _terrified_ of getting seriously involved with someone. Normally, trust issues arise from being abandoned or seriously betrayed at some point in life. What you're afraid of is that you'll fall in love, be happy and carefree and all that crap, _then_ as soon as you're able to fully commit yourself to the other person, he'll leave you standing in the dust with nothing but a broken heart and two eyes full of tears." Deni finished, beginning to walk again. Brennan folded her arms across her chest and furrowed her brows.

They were almost to the tent when Bones spoke up.

"What is number two?" She asked, looking up from her feet, the location her eyes had been planted to.

"What?" Deni looked at her as if she was crazy.

"You said that there were two reasons and you only told me one." Brennan stopped in front of her just as the reached the opening to the meal tent. Deni grinned at her.

"Number two is that you secretly consider yourself taken by…whoever you mystery man is." She waggled her eyebrows teasingly, than pushed past Brennan and entered the tent. The anthropologist's brows almost folded over each other as she ran to catch up with Deni inside. She didn't have to go too far, as her friend was in the line, filling her plate with boxed mashed potatoes and a spam sandwich.

"I don't know what that means." She said simply, taking hold of for her own tray. Deni looked at her and then went back to reaching for the spoon for the canned corn.

"Of course you do. I mean, it's pretty self-explanatory."

"I'm not one to understand teasing, sarcasm, pop-culture references or puns." She answered. Deni squinted up at her.

"You're one weird woman, Dr. Brennan." She answered, putting a plastic fork on her tray and turning to find a seat.

Brennan followed her.

"Are you suggesting that I subconsciously have already selected a mate?" She asked, incredulity rising in her voice. The two sat down on a blanket that had been laid out for them.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Deni smiled, her green eyes flashing. Brennan cocked her head ever so slightly to the side.

_She has a point…_ She said to herself. It was quiet again, as everyone had already eaten and the men were headed back to their respected tents. Brennan didn't eat anything, just picked at her mashed potatoes and thought what about the whole 'Afraid of commitment' and 'worried about abandonment' thing. On any other occasion, she did not at all buy into psychology, but for whatever reason, Deni had opened a whole world for her inside her own mind.

It made sense that she was afraid of commitment and abandonment. In fact, it was a logical, pragmatic theory. She'd been hurt so many times in her past that it was highly possible…

Suddenly voices filled her thoughts,

"_Will you ever betray me?" _She heard herself ask. There was a pause.

"_No." _She heard the strong, comforting, deep voice respond. She knew the voice. Quite well, in fact. It was the same voice that haunted her dreams, made her melt from the other end of the phone, made her look up in excitement, made her laugh in spite of herself.

And at that moment, in the empty mess hall, in the middle of Africa, everything clicked.

* * *

**Well, there you have it folks! Chapter seven:) I think I might do the next chapter as an 'Angela' side of the story, why? Because I find Angela awesome!**

**~Rhea~**

**Hodgins: "Phooku." **

**Sweets: "Thats really not nice.." (walks away) **


	8. Day Fifteen: Metaphor

**Hey, so finally, I found some time to sit down and write, and this is the result. I realize I haven't been writing Booth's character very well, so I'm going to start with this chapter and let him evolve into normal Booth. (or, at least, one can hope...) **

**Anyway, here is the Angela POV I promised. this is the first time I've ever written a combo past/present tense (or present tense in general) so if the tense is weird, please bare with me and write a reveiw telling me how I could possibly do it better (aka constructive critisism:)**

**So, here you go! **

**disclaimer: I don't own Google, Bones or any of the characters of Bones. **

* * *

This is Heaven. This is _absolutely _Heaven. I'm 100%, positively sure that this is Heaven. And if it's not, the real Heaven had better be like this or I'm not sure I even want to go.

You may ask, Angela, why are you raving about how heavenly the present situation is? Because currently, the ever-so-sexy Agent Seeley Booth is sitting on my office couch, his arms across his chest, his amber eyes brooding and conflicted, his pouty bottom lip poking out just so that- okay I'm getting off topic (It's this celibacy stuff, I swear, it can do a real number on you after four and a half months). The point is, he's currently admitting that he misses his partner. Sort of.

* * *

"What's the time difference? Between DC and Africa?" He had asked me. I already knew the answer, but what fun is life without a little hearty manipulation? So of course, I told him to sit down while I looked it up, as "my computer is slow and it might take awhile." I was lying obviously. My computer is one of the most high tech, cutting edge pieces of technology in the country, of course it's not slow.

"Why are you so miserable lately?" I asked as I typed into Google, my bracelets clacking against the desk every time I pressed a key.

"I'm not . . . Miserable!" He snapped defensively. I raised my eyebrow, as you do in a situation like this.

"Okay, whatever you say, G-man…" I smirked in my typical fashion.

I pressed the 'I'm feeling lucky' button (which I find funny, by the way), and walked out from behind my desk to sit across from Booth in a chair.

"I'm just saying, you seem a little…out of it, lately. " I commented. He just raised his head a little.

"Can you just answer the time zone question? " He asked, obviously dodging the bullet. I'd never heard him talk like that. Well, only in front of Sweets, which doesn't count.

"Why, are you gonna write her a letter or something?" I could feel my eyes grinning. When my eyes grin, I consider it seepage from my overly enthusiastic insides; so in other terms, I could feel my happiness seeping through my eyes.

"Maybe...Why are you all excited?" He asked.

"Because, it's like those tragic novels, where the man goes off to war and the woman writes him letters and then when he comes back she's gone and all that's left are those romantic little pieces of paper! Except…the opposite. And, it's not war, it's a mass grave…and I _know_ you won't leave her…" Oh, I am gonna get it now.

"How do you know that?" He asked, like I dared to underestimate his manliness. To this, l sighed.

"Because. You love her _way _too much to abandon her like every other man in her life has. That and…You wouldn't be able to live with out her." This time, I allowed the seepage of my overflowing internal happiness become present in both my tone and on my face in the form of a blissfully aware, amused, smile.

"We're just partners and I'm not gonna sit here and listen to this." He stood up, ready to bolt.

"Oh don't give me that, 'Jut partners' crap." Now, that was meant to stay in my head. It just slipped out, like many of the things I say do. I think the filter for 'socially appropriate' things is broken.

I want to take it back, but it's a little late, seeing as I already said it and somehow, my body had placed itself in what I like to call, 'The Stance'. It's when your hand is on your hip, your head is cocked slightly to the side and your eyes blaze with nothing but pure, 150 proof attitude.

At first, he looked taken aback, I can't blame him, I _am_ quite intimidating, but now he just looks angry. Oh God. Nothing good can come of this.

"That is all we are. Partners. That's it." He's calming himself, though there is most definitely fire in his eyes.

"I don't get it. She's gone away before and it hardly did anything to you. Why the sudden moodiness?" I asked innocently. By now, most people would've shut up, seeing this muscular tall guy with anger in his stance and his eyes turned dark as coal, but I never give up on an opportunity.

Booth didn't answer. But then, I didn't expect him to. So to help him out, I answered for him.

"It's because the last time she left was back when the tension between you two was just a little flicker. A match being struck, if you will. But now, _oh_… now is a whole new ballgame." I start walking toward him menacingly, until I was standing right in front of him, close enough to catch a waft of the cologne on his neck.

"Now the tension is a big, hungry, _hot_ mess of a flame, and _you, _my friend,are dangerously close." His eyes start to lighten up as the anger melts away.

"There's that old cliché, you know, the 'don't play with fire because you will get burned.' That's not my advice. Play with fire. Give fire a run for its money. Hell, jump into fire with reckless abandon and yell back that you just don't care." These are my final words as I brush past him and exit my office.

Now if only he'd listen to me instead of dancing _around_ the fire, as he has been for so long.

Oh man, I _do_ love metaphors.

* * *

**So there it is! review if you please! **

**I will try and have the next Brennan chapter up soon (probably tommorow) and I'm trying to decide if I need a little bit of Parker in my story. Let me know what you think,**

**~Rhea~**

**"We make our lives out of chaos and hope. And love."- Angela **


	9. Day Eleven: Photographs

**Hey there! I have written another chapter, as it is a lazy Saturday afternoon and I have nothing to do except clean. I don't like cleaning. That and I really felt the need to write. **

**So here we go, Chapter 9! Antoher Brennan/Deni chapter! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bones. I do, however, own Deni Marsters because she is a fictional character that I made up all by myself! (accomplished eyelashes batting)**

* * *

"Hey, Deni, can I have a few pairs of gloves? I'm almost out." Brennan asked as she twisted her hair into a pony tail.

"Sure thing, Dr. Brennan. Show me the way to your glove bag and I'll stick some in there while you finish getting ready." The blonde girl replied as she opened her kit and began to rummage through it for the spare box of latex gloves she always had on hand just in case.

"It's in my kit, third pocket on the right, next to the extra-large evidence bags." She directed, pulling on a pair of cargo shorts. Deni nodded and unzipped the bag, finding her way to the correct spot. She dug her hand into the pocket and finally came back up with a nearly empty zip lock bag.

Deni peered into it and raised a curious eyebrow as she noticed the slip of paper, folded neatly in half twice. She looked up to see that Brennan was preoccupied with looping her belt around her waist, so, being the inquisitive soul that she is, she unfolded the paper to find not a note, but a picture.

It was taken at a bar, she could tell because behind the two people in the picture were several illuminated shelves of liquor bottles, lined up with the labels facing out all nice and pretty.

Deni recognized Dr. Brennan instantly. She was sitting on a barstool next to a _very _attractive man in a green jacket and a gray shirt. The man was grinning and looked genuinely happy, as if being that bar, sitting next to Dr. Brennan was the only thing he'd want to do at that moment in time. He was making bunny ears over her head, which she'd undoubtedly noticed. She was looking up at his fingers, showing off her beautify chiseled jaw line, smiling spitefully- like she was annoyed that he was teasing her, but was trying not to laugh at what he was doing.

Deni grinned. So this is _him._ She thought to herself.

She flipped the picture over just as Brennan went to fetch her water bottle.

'Booth's Birthday, 2008.' It was titled. Booth? Deni raised another curious eyebrow. The sound of Dr. Brennan's boots nearing her made her flip the picture over.

She went about putting the gloves in the bag and then, ever so casually asked,

"So who's this Booth person?"

Her blue eyes froze and the first time in a very long time, Temperance Brennan blushed a deep shade of crimson.

"Why do you ask?" She pressed, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Why are you embarrassed?" Deni giggled. She liked seeing this side of Dr. Brennan, the human side. It was nice. The mere fact that she had a human side to be seen gave her a since of hope in the world. Nothing is ever impossible…She thought to herself.

"I'm not embarrassed…" She defended, though it came out sounding more like a question.

"I look embarrassed?" She asked. Deni nodded, biting her bottom lip as she clasped the picture between her index finger and her thumb, holding it out in front of her so that she could see it.

"Where'd you get that?" She asked, accusatory, pleased and surprised all at the same time.

"Your glove bag." Deni answered simply. Brennan reached out and took it from her, flipping it over, noticing her own handwriting on the back of the picture. She knew exactly who had stuffed the photograph in her glove bag, who'd removed it from its secret place in the back of her keyboard drawer. Angela. She mentally rolled her eyes, but went back to observing the picture.

She remembered being there. At Founding Fathers with Booth, (sitting in the same stool she'd pushed his Jar-Headed little brother out of the day before) celebrating his birthday, while Angela fiddled around with the camera.

"Come on! Get in there with Booth, I want a picture of you two!" She'd exclaimed. Brennan had reluctantly agreed (though not _too_ reluctantly). They'd started off a bar stool apart from each other, but Angela complained that they 'wouldn't fit in the same frame', so she kept motioning time and time again to scoot nearer to each other.

"Oh, come on! I've seen you guys closer than _that_!" Hodgins had complained, leaving Brennan's cheeks to redden ever-so vaguely and Booth to shoot him a short lived death-glare.

Finally they were close enough for Angela's taste, Angela's taste being almost sitting on top of each other, and Booth had flashed the bunny-ear fingers above her head just as the button was pressed.

"Booth!" She had whined in a flirty manner, playfully hitting him on the shoulder.

"Ow!" He'd grinned.

Yes, she remembered being there. She remembered how it smelled-like alcohol, warm chocolate cake, and Booth's cologne, she remembered how it had sounded- loud, what with the music playing and the balls from the pool table in the back smacking around against each other and the clinking of glasses. She remember how she'd felt. Happy. Happy to be apart of something. Happy to be with people who loved and cared about her.

Now, it all came flooding back to her and she could smell his spicy, rugged cologne wafting into her nostrils from his neck, she could see him grinning and she could feel his charming ways and his comforting warmth surrounding her.

"So…" Deni's voice brought her back to reality.

"So what?" She asked, forgetting the question, assuming that there was in fact a question to be answered.

"So who's this 'Booth' person?" Brennan collected her kit from it's place on the edge of her cot, stuffing the picture under her pillow. She slung her bag over her shoulder as she brushed by Deni, exiting the tent.

"He's my partner." She began to walk to the site. Deni snagged onto this hook in Dr. Brennan's life like a fish after bait. She ran to follow her out, like one of the interns, racing to keep up with her.

"_Just _your partner?" She asked, her blonde ponytail swishing against her back.

"Yes…" She answered.

"You sound hesitant." Deni prodded.

"And you sound invasive." Brennan commented. Deni furrowed her brows.

"Sometimes the reason we put up walls is not to keep people out and away from the truth, but to keep ourselves in." She spoke.

Brennan stopped.

"I don't put up walls." She commented briskly.

"Sure you don't." Deni muttered. They walked all the way to the pit in silence.

"He's my partner. That's all." Brennan confirmed.

"I believe you." Deni exclaimed, "It's just that there are certain lines that are meant to be crossed." She finished, crawling down into the grave, pulling the tan cap over her hot mess of shiny blonde hair. Brennan made her signature 'pinchy face', lost in thought.

* * *

**Reviews are to me as Cookies are to Cookie Monster. What does this make me? The review monster? Well...**

**~Rhea~**

**Hodgins:** **like a domesticated container**

**Booth: you mean like a jar? why can't we just call it a jar??**


	10. Day Seventeen: Thoughts

**Hey! another Booth chapter, this one has a cliff hanger, you've been warned. :) Review, plez!**

* * *

It had been three months since he'd seen the short blonde agent with the large, perky blue eyes, so it surprised Booth immensely when he answered his phone to her voice.

"Booth." He stated, waiting subconsciously for Bones to answer with her typical, 'It's me.' Instead he heard,

"Perotta. Listen, how fast can you be at Hoover?" She'd asked abruptly. He answered and flipped his phone shut, setting it down in the cup holder between the driver and passenger seat of his car. He was stopped at a red light and glanced over at the empty space from him, noticing the silence. He looked up to see that the light had changed and quickly turned the volume dial on the radio up, drowning out the unwelcome stillness.

He wasn't sure what he thought of working with Perotta again. To be honest, he was confused. She was pretty, she was blonde, she had a natural golden skin- she was, in every way, his type. Yet, he had never made a move with her. He almost had, oh yeah; he had _very _close to swooping in on her. It had happened while she was interrogating him (during the case where the hockey player had been murdered), he brought the charm and she shot it right back.

They were perfect, really. Both Agents set out to find justice, both fast witted people with nearly the same sense of humor.

It had appealed to him at first. But then he realized that it was just mindless flirting with another meaningless girl. A girl who wouldn't stick around for long. He'd been through too many of those.

That was the day he had reevaluated his 'type'. He hadn't set up and written down what kind of girls he was interested in, he'd just mentally decided that when he did get back on the relationship train, he wouldn't leap too suddenly onto some blonde, tan ditz. No, he wanted a woman. A smart, sophisticated woman who had some little thing about her that set her apart from the rest. A quirk of some sort.

Perotta, to him at least, didn't have that. She was his coworker. That was it. A means to an end.

He turned into the J. Edgar Hoover parking lot and found his space. He took a deep breath and glanced once more over to the empty space that was the passenger seat.

* * *

It'd been almost three weeks since Bones had left and finally, he was starting to return to his life. It was nice. He wasn't sure why he'd missed her, especially those first few days. He'd gone almost his entire life without knowing her and a week apart had been killing him from the inside out. It wasn't like she hadn't been gone before, Angela had pointed that out quite nicely for him, but for whatever bizarre reason, this trip to Africa had done a real number on him.

He began walking to the building and stepped mindlessly onto the elevator, still deep in thought.

* * *

He suspected that the reason he missed her had to do with the new height their relationship had taken recently. Just a week before she'd left, and about a month after he'd fully recovered from his operation, he'd kissed her- and it had unduly freaked both of them out.

They'd been at his house, talking on the couch about the case and he'd said something that set her off into one of her inexhaustible ramblings about 'Alpha-male tendencies'. He was looking at her, not at all paying attention. He was drinking her in, observing the sharp curve of her jaw, the fiery passion ever present in her eyes, the soft glow of her fair skin. He saw the way her bottom lip poked out, as it often did when she rambled or lectured him, and it was calling out to him, which was par for the course. This time, instead of being entranced by that soft looking bottom lip, he leaned over and planted a small kiss on the corner of her mouth.

He regretted it at first, as he saw her blue eyes turn three shades lighter and grow to the size of saucers and her cheeks tinge a dusty rose color. She had jumped up almost instantaneously and vacated the premises immediately.

"I…need to go…" It came out almost as a question and her voice was as high as he'd ever heard before. He felt his face and neck heating up and turning a deep crimson, but after she picked up her bag and shut the door behind her, his heart rate slowed and he came back down to Earth. What had he done? How could he be this stupid?

Looking back on it, it didn't seem nearly as ridiculous as it had at the time, but still, he could see how if she'd reacted differently, it could've changed their working relationship for good.

* * *

Booth stepped out onto his floor and started to weave his way down the maze of hallways to the conference room, never ceasing his train of thought.

She'd reacted like he assumed she would. Clean and detached, her two favorite adjectives. She acted as though nothing had happened. This, oddly enough, had made the tension between them much greater. Their last few days together felt like a volcano about to erupt.

* * *

Booth entered the room, holding the door open for Charlie, who was just behind him.

"Hey, Agent Booth." He greeted his superior warmly. Booth nodded.

"Hi Charlie." He closed the door behind him and entered to see Agent Perotta, standing behind the large table in a blue blouse and black pencil skirt.

"Hello, Agent Booth." She smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling.

"Perotta." He grinned, holding out his hand for her to shake. She took it eagerly and then folded her skirt under as she sat down, receiving a manila file folder from Charlie. They began to talk about the case, but Booth couldn't seem to turn his thought switch off.

Instead he was busy thinking about how the corner of her mouth had twitched upward into a slight smile as his lips had pressed generously to hers. He liked that he made her smile, that his touch made her excited.

The light bulb above his head flickered on. That is why she couldn't embrace head on the fact their partnership was evolving. She was happy.

* * *

"..And that is how the body ended up in the washing machine in a laundry mat in downtown. Questions?" Charlie finished eagerly. They both shook their heads and he smiled, taking his file and beginning to leave. Booth stared off into space, only half aware that Perotta was speaking to him.

* * *

Psychology may not have been his field, but he certainly knew a thing or too. One of the things he knew was that Bones had been abandoned. Countless times. By her parents, by her brother, by her earlier partners, by her previous boyfriends and, most recently, by her assistant, who had been very close to her heart.

Not only was Bones afraid of commitment, but she was afraid of allowing herself to be happy, because in her mind, every time she's happy, someone leaves her.

She didn't want him to leave her.

* * *

"Booth?" Perotta asked. Booth snapped out of his daze and flew quickly back to the planet Earth.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Do you want to go grab something to eat?" She asked, tucking a piece of her honey suckle blonde hair behind her delicate ears.

"To discuss the case?" He asked innocently, unaware of her intentions. He leaned back in his chair and flipped nonchalantly through the file.

"No…I mean, like two people going to get dinner. together…" She added, noting his confused look.

"I don't know…" he hesitated.

"Come on, it'll be nice to not think about work and work related things for awhile." Her eyes smiled. He could use a break…

"Uh…"

* * *

**So there you go! (if you can really consider that a cliffhanger...) **

**REview if you please! **

**~ Rhea~ **

**Booth: Vodka?  
Brennan: Water...but it's on the rocks.  
Booth: You know, Bones, I'm not sure you grasp the basic theory on how to get drunk.**


	11. Day Sixteen: Reveal

**Another chapter! Just a kind of random, short one, that could in the long run have a big meaning when it comes to the overall plot, but we'll see:) **

**Brennan and Deni all the way! (with a dash of Hodgins, Angela, Russ and Booth's dad-you'll see what I mean.)**

* * *

"Are you okay? You don't look good. I mean, not that you don't look good- because yah look great," Deni, as usual, began talking up a storm. Brennan rolled her eyes, she ordinarily would have tolerated her explanations, but tonight she was just not in the mood.

"Deni, do I look sick?" she asked, she'd do anything to hasten the rambling. 'I wonder if I bother people this much with my ravings…' she thought to herself.

"Yes. you look very sick. Do you feel okay? If not, I have Advil and Midol." Deni suggested, sitting down on the edge of her cot.

"I think I'm just…sleep deprived…" Brennan shook her head. Deni nodded.

"I'm gonna go get dinner, do you want me to grab you anything?" She asked kindly.

"No. I'll be fine. I just need some sleep." She told the young anthropologist as she pulled the thin blanket over her head. Deni nodded and began to leave.

It was true, Brennan had gotten no more than a wink of sleep. She was too busy thinking, conjuring up situations and peering into the series of events that had occurred recently. She knew that not sleeping was bad for her, but she couldn't seem to shake the images of home, of her friends, of her partner, out of her mind.

She kicked the blanket off of her and lied out flat on her back, her arms and legs spread apart, her eyes staring unmoving at the tent wall above her. Finally, as she began to focus on the point on the ceiling and blocked everything out of her mind, she began to feel every inch of her body sink deeper and deeper down.

* * *

Suddenly, from somewhere, she could hear her own voice,

"You see us as you want to see us...in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case and a prince. Correct? That's the way we saw each other at seven o'clock this morning. We were brainwashed."

"I can't believe you couldn't get me out of this, I mean, you paid for every science lab in this joint! And to be here on a Saturday? What's wrong with America?" Jack muttered disgustedly as he slammed the car door.

"Is the first time or the last time this is gonna happen, Tempe?" Russ asked out of concern for his sister. Temperance looked upset and mumbled,

"Last."

"Well, go." Russ ordered as Tempe slung her backpack over her shoulder and slammed the door out of frustration.

**

"So you screwed up. I screw up, a lot, everybody screws up." Booth's father said, "There is nothin wrong with that. The key is, you don't get caught." Booth sighed.

"Yeah, I already got that whole talk from mom."

"You wanna screw up a game? You wanna blow your ride??" the anger in Mr. Booth's voice was rising, "No schools gonna give a scholarship to a discipline case!" He screeched. Booth huffed a huge sigh and left the car, wanting badly to slam it until it broke down, but afraid of the consequences.

**

"Bye, Angie." Her dad called nonchalantly as the girl stepped out of her car. Angela raised her eyebrows and began walking toward Hoover High, her bag slung over her shoulder.

* * *

Brennan was startled awake by the sound of Deni's voice.

"Hey, there. Um…Boswell had tea mix, so I made some for you." Deni smiled, handing her the steaming Styrofoam cup. Brennan blinked a few times.

"…thanks." She nodded.

"So'd you get any sleep in the three hours that I was gone?" Deni asked perkily.

"Yeah. A little." Brennan sat up, "I had a very strange dream…"

"Yeah? Tell me about it." She replied, sitting down on her cot.

"Have you ever seen The Breakfast Club?" She asked, grinning at how stupid it sounded. Deni nodded.

"It was like that, but all my friends were there…" She pressed the cup almost to her lips and blew on the boiling hot tea inside in an effort to make it remotely drinkable.

"So you dreamed you were _in _a movie?" She asked.

"Yeah. I was Brian, the nerd kid." She reminisced, finding it odd considering that she _had _been the nerd kid in high school.

"You know, I took a class on dream interpretation, and supposedly if you dream you're playing a role in a movie, it's foretelling that something from your unconscious is about to emerge or be revealed." Her eyes flashed devilishly.

"So I'm about to reveal myself?"

"In a sense…"

"Well what do you think I'm going to reveal?" Brennan asked, secretly excited, but still knowing that psychology was conjecture.

"I don't know. What's been on your mind recently?"

"Nothing much." She quipped, lying directly through her teeth.

"Oh, come on, there's got to be something that's been bothering you! If something's bothering you, that means that the thought is trying to break free of your subconscious, to_ reveal_ itself!" She added. Brennan shook her head,

"I can't think of any particular thing." Deni suddenly smiled.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Brennan asked in a slightly nervous voice.

"You're thinking about _him_, aren't you?" She grinned.

"What? No. Who?" She suddenly found herself flustered.

"Booth, wasn't it? Yeah, that was his name, Booth." Brennan gave Deni her best, 'You're crazy face' (which was not easy because she'd never made a face like that, she was simply mimicking Angela).

"Whatever you say…" Deni grinned knowingly.

"Fine. I assume that it is fair to say…that I _may _have been thinking about Booth. But, he's my partner and I assume it's just apart of being homesick." She added. Deni nodded in mock-agreement.

"It's okay to say that you miss him. I'm not afraid to say that I miss _my_ partner." She added in a softer tone as she pulled her mess of hair into a sloppy bun.

Brennan found herself in a weak spot, being sick and the fact that it was so late at night…But she'd had one particular question that had been eating away at her for awhile, to be specific, the week before she'd left, the night that Booth had kissed her.

"Before you go to bed," She took in a deep breath, she couldn't believe she was about to ask this,"Would you explain to me…how one can tell when a person is simply a coworker…or is…something more than that?" She asked in unscientific terms, a deer-in-headlights look graced upon her face.

Deni had a glint of pride in her eye, and rightfully so, as she was helping one of the most cold, detached, isolated women in the world come to terms with herself.

"Dr. Brennan, it would be my honor." She grinned.

* * *

**There it is, a small chapter for today, but my next Booth chapter should be longer. Also, I went on the dream dictionary and the dream analysis is correct! **

**So I just wanted to say thank you to everyone! I've never gotten more than 20 reviews on anything and now here I am sitting in the mid thirties!!! **

**But, still, I have to say, Please Review! :)**

**~Rhea~**

**Bones:** **The debris in the body suggest an explosion.**

**Booth: Yeah, and so that that giant hole in the wall there.**


	12. Day Seventeen: Letters

**So here we are, the Booth chapter! **

**So do to a request, I'm gonna start putting like a little countdown on all of the Brennan chapters so that you'll know how many days are left until she comes home:)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bones, FOX does!**

* * *

Booth was not a bad writer. He was no Temperance Brennan, critically acclaimed author, but he wasn't bad, either. He wrote a lot, actually, though he'd never admit that to anyone who wasn't on their death bed.

It's not like he had a journal, no, he wouldn't be caught dead with a journal- he just wrote letters. Lots of letters. The kind of letters that you don't send because they were simply a way for him to vent, to put all of his frustrations out on paper and in front of him. He kept them in the back of the bottom drawer of his bed-side table, safe and hidden away from everyone except him.

Usually, when he went to write such letters, the words poured out and in the end they practically wrote themselves. Tonight, however, he was debating his skills as a writer, because as he sat at his desk, staring at the wall, a pencil in his left hand and a mound of eraser dust piling up next to the sheet of paper, he could not think of a single thing to write.

He was near giving up completely, but he dug not too far into his memory and the motivation for writing the letter became apparent again.

* * *

He had gone to a new diner with Perotta that night for dinner. It was called 'Joe's' and the food was revolting, and to be truthful, it wasn't the only thing that made his face pinch up in distaste.

"So how have you been?" Peyton smiled warmly, flipping the laminated, front-and-back-menu over.

"I'm fine, but listen; we should probably talk about the case." He suggested, at first he thought maybe his approach had been too abrupt, but she didn't seem phased at all.

"The typical response is, 'I'm good and how are you?', but this is cool, too." She teased. Booth nodded, flipping the menu back over.

It was quiet for several seconds, but the stillness was interrupted by the waiter's voice.

"Welcome to Joe's." He said in a less than enthusiastic voice, "What can I get you to drink?" He asked, not bothering to even look at them.

"Um, you want a beer?" Booth asked Perotta. The blonde woman shook her head.

"Actually, I don't drink beer. It…smells nasty." She responded, her nose wrinkling up. For Booth, this was the first red flag of the evening.

He liked a woman he could sit down on the couch and knock back a few beers with. In fact, he could recall many times when he and Bones had popped a few tabs and toasted to God-knows-what. To him, at least, beer had a certain evocative sense to it; it brought back so many memories and feelings, it was a trigger for something greater (which is an odd thing to think about an alcoholic drink made from barley, but then, we all have our quirks).

"Oh. Okay." He responded.

"Excuse me, I don't want to rush you," The waiter said in an annoyed tone, "But it's _really_ busy and I just need your drink orders." He sighed. The two agents glanced around the small space and noted that there were _maybe _three costumers. Booth glanced down at the drink menu quickly, Perotta followed suit.

"I'll have a Bud light." He didn't really have to think about it because that was the only drink option other than water, coffee, milk and orange juice.

"Get me a water, I guess." Perotta stated after reviewing the menu once more.

"Coming right up." The waiter's monotonous tone rang dully through the air. Peyton pushed a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear.

"So where's Dr. Brennan?" She asked unknowingly. She may as well have asked, 'How was the play Mrs. Lincoln?' Peyton's eyes flashed good-naturedly once more. He didn't like her eyes. He wasn't sure why, they just gave him a sick feeling.

"She's …in Africa." He finally answered. He wasn't sure, but he could almost see the corner of her mouth float minutely into a smile. He didn't like that. In fact, it made him mad. But he quickly calmed himself. Perhaps she hadn't smiled, perhaps it was his imagination. Perhaps he was making up excuses not to fall for her. But he quickly dismissed this theory.

The rest of the night dragged on and on for what seemed like far too long.

He'd ordered a burger and so had she. He couldn't place why, but he didn't like the idea of her not getting a salad or a veggie burger or something. It felt weird, especially after all of these years eating across from a vegetarian, to see a woman eat meat.

He found out that she liked to talk. A lot. This wouldn't ordinarily bother him, except for that he believed that if you're going to speak, speak passionately. She just seemed to be talking to hear the sound of her own voice.

But what he really did not like was the sick to his stomach feeling he got whenever he looked at her. By the end of the night, he'd figured out why he didn't like to stare into her eyes.

It was because when he looked into her eyes, he could see someone else. Whenever Perotta laughed and made her screechy giggly sound, he heard the deeper chortle of someone else. When he looked around him, he saw not Joe's, but the Royal Diner and when he studied the girl sitting across the table from him, he saw not Perotta, but a woman. A woman who spoke with the utmost intensity and who argued her point to the very end and who was just looking to be a normal person. It made him upset and angry and disappointed and nervous and frustrated all at the same time. But finally, the dinner had ended.

"I had a nice time." Perotta commented quietly. He'd known exactly what that phrase led to. He couldn't count the number of times on all of his fingers and toes that a girl's tongue had uttered that very phrase and had soon after found its way into his mouth. He didn't want to kiss her. He couldn't kiss her, because if he did, she would think that something was there and he was nearly positive that there was nothing there. So instead of leaning in and pressing his lips firmly and yet gently to hers and then lingering on the moment for a split second longer than he needed to, he answered with a simple,

"Yeah, it was a nice Tuesday night." As he pressed down on the 'unlock door' button, hoping that would be a cue enough to her to exit the SUV. She did leave, but not before planting a rapid, tiny peck on his cheek.

As she shut the door and he began to drive off, he couldn't help but remember the time when the lips of another had quickly pressed upon his cheek, grazing for a minute period of time on his skin, making pure electricity flood through his veins. He found it amazing that one small touch could have that great of an effect on him.

* * *

All in all, he wasn't quite sure if it was one thing in particular that had prompted him to write the letter, or if it was a combination of things. The only thing he could come up with was that everything that happened reminded him of her.

As soon as he'd gotten to his apartment, he'd sat at his desk and attempted writing, tried to think, tried to place everything down on paper, so that it wouldn't all be locked up in his brain any longer. He would write her a letter, a letter much like the other ones he'd written that were tucked in the back of his drawer. Only this time, maybe he would send her the letter. Maybe. Maybe not…

He rubbed his temples and finally turned the lamp off, ready to stop for today. He would continue tomorrow, and with any luck, would have more than two words written down. He shrugged off his jeans and climbed onto his bed. There he stared at the ceiling a while longer, still thinking about what to write…

* * *

**There you are:) Perhaps you liked it, perhaps you think I could've done something better, weeeeell, I know of a way that you (YES, YOU!) ann voice your opinions! Just press that handy little review button and tell me what's on your mind! **

**Thank you lots,**

**Rhea**

**[Zack holds his fist to Brennan]**

**Zack : You're supposed to bump my fist with yours.**

**Brennan : Why?**

**Zack : I'm told it's a widely acknowledged gesture of mutual success.**

**Angela : (grin) I love it when you two impersonate earthlings.**


	13. Day Twenty Three: Music

**The longest chapter I have written for this story! Chapter 13!! I'm not that great at writing long chapters, so if it ends up a choatic mishmash of ideas that didn't blend well at ALL, feel free to tell me, as in a review:)**

**Don't ask me why the first paragraph is so random, oral hygiene is kind of on my mind right now.**

* * *

Brennan scrubbed the brush back and forward through her mouth. She was grateful that she was able to brush her teeth (since she herself had forgotten to pack any and all dental hygienic supplies) even though she could not see why anyone would want citrus flavored toothpaste. She pulled her hair away from her face and spit into the trash can, slightly annoyed that the film of orange-mint flavoring was lingering around her mouth. She walked to her cot and took a sip of water, swigging it around and eventually spitting it into the trash can. Ordinarily, she wouldn't even have time to brush her teeth (or she'd be too tired to brush them), as they had to be down in the pit at five o'clock sharp, but at the moment, their work had hit a bit of a dry spell.

They'd already excavated the entire pit and had run their eyes over every single shard of bone that they'd come across. It wasn't until last week that they realized how scarce the bodies were becoming. Eventually, instead of identifying, they'd spent a whole two days helping the archeological team dig a little deeper; to see if anything was still hidden among the dirt. So far, they'd come across nothing.

So, for the time being, they were all either re-examining what they'd already examined at least fifty times, helping set up a parameter for the new exploratory dig site, catching up on their daily hygienic duties or packing their bags to head home. Brennan was doing a little of everything and to be completely honest, she was getting bored of running through the same thing everyday. Examine, dig, shower, sleep, eat, and sleep. Luckily enough, she had Deni as a tent mate, and Deni never seemed bored.

* * *

Just as she began to wonder where the blonde headed girl had wandered off to, she heard her voice pierce the silence of the air around her.

"Hey, Dr. Brennan, the mail guy just came! And guess what, my friend? You got something." Deni called as she entered the tent carrying a large, slightly odd shaped box, a few small envelopes and one larger manila envelope. She set the box down gently and cautiously on her cot and plopped down on the extra bed next to Brennan.

"Someone sent me a letter?" She asked, trying to hide the excitement that was building up inside her. Deni saw right through her, as usual, and began to sift through the pile of envelopes.

"Deni Masters, Deni Masters, Rebecca Masters-must be from Mom, she never could accept the fact that I didn't like my name…" She spoke aloud as she read the labels on the corner of the envelope.

Brennan grabbed the manila packet from her right hand and began to peal up the two metal strips. As she opened it, the butterflies in her stomach fluttered for a second.

"Oooh, what's that? A love letter?" Deni teased as she tore into one of the envelopes.

As she pulled back the flap and carefully removed the contents from the packet, she saw a one page letter, a few photographs and a drawing on blue construction paper.

She recognized the writing instantaneously. The letters were in all caps, and she immediately noticed the odd way the 'E's' were written, four separate lines that almost, but never connected. She also saw the name at the bottom, which kind of gave it away…

She wanted so desperately to read the letter, but she decided to wait and read it privately, without Deni sitting next to her to watch the wave of emotions that would undoubtedly pass over her face. It would probably kill her, but she just couldn't read it at that particular moment.

So instead, she carefully slipped it back into the envelope and began to study the pictures.

They were of her and Booth. She didn't remember ever taking them, or having them taken, but the evidence didn't lie. There was, however, one picture that she knew about, the same picture that Angela had snuck into her bag. She flipped it over to find Booth's scratchy, all caps writing once more. 'November 3rd, 2008' it said simply. Somehow, she knew that this particular picture had meant a great deal to him.

The drawing made her smile from ear to ear. It was a stick figure portrait of Booth, herself, Angela, Hodgins, Cam and Parker. She turned it over to see the words 'From: Parker Booth, To: Dr. Brennan' written neatly in green crayon on the right hand corner.

"Get anything good?" Deni smiled eagerly. Brennan bit her bottom lip and nodded, determined that she would not cry or squeal with delight, or saying something awkward or stupid. Deni flashed her a devilish, knowing glance, and then, understanding Brennan's unspoken need for privacy, she walked toward her bed and removed her box.

"What's that?" Brennan asked. Deni gave her a soft look,

"After you read your letter, come find me out by the food tent and I'll show you." She gave her a warm, genuine smile. Brennan nodded, glad to see someone respecting her boundaries. Deni exited the tent and began walking across the dirt to the tent, the evening sky turning quickly to gray as night approached. She looked around and saw that no one was there. She turned her chin to the skies above her and bit her lip as she grinned.

"Thank you." She whispered. It was nice to know that everything was aligned, that there was balance in the universe.

* * *

Brennan closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn't sure what was about to happen, but she knew that it would be monumental. For once in her life, instead of rationalizing and predicting things based upon evidence, she let her emotions and her gut feelings take over. She opened her eyes and pulled out the letter. After tucking a strand of loose chesnut hair behind her ear, her eyes began to take in the words.

'Dear Bones,'

* * *

Deni sat cross legged in the dirt, her blonde hair falling loosely out of its ponytail. She used her house key to open the box and when she tossed the cardboard flaps over she found a mountain of packaging peanuts. She shuffled through a small layer of them and finally came to what she was looking for. She grinned and her green eyes flashed through the now almost black sky. She had a solar powered light set out in front of her and she began to remove her treasure from the oddly shaped box.

It was a black case covered in bumper stickers. She slid her hand over it, recalling the many times she'd opened it. She flipped over the latches and pulled the top piece off, revealing the beautiful instrument that she loved so dearly. She removed it from it's case and sat in her lap, playing a few chords of a new song she was working on.

Suddenly, she heard the near silent footsteps of Dr. Brennan approaching her. She smiled up at her and patted to the ground next to her, motioning for her to sit. Brennan nodded and heaved a large sigh.

"So. I presume I was correct."

"What?" She asked, the rims of her eyes stained pink from crying.

"I was correct in predicting that it was a love note." Deni strummed a low note and swished her hair to her right shoulder. Brennan didn't answer, but the glow in her cheeks and the mixture of hope and moisture in her eyes said it all. It was silent for a second as Deni warmed up her fingers.

"You know, I wrote a song. It's inspired by you." She cut through the stillness of the night.

"You did?" She asked, as if it was the most absurd thing she'd ever heard.

"Yes, why wouldn't someone write a song about you?" She asked, looking up at her. Brennan didn't answer.

"You're an amazing woman, Dr. Brennan." She told her sincerely, beginning to strum out a soft melody. Brennan gave a shaky half smile and pulled her knees to her chest like a little girl.

The tempo picked up and Deni made a clearing-of-the-throat sound as she prepared to sing.

"It's really a duet, but it'll have to make do." She grinned, proud at her achievements.

"It's okay to have scars; they will make you who you are." She started, her voice ebbing and flowing over the notes in perfect tempo.

Brennan was lost. Lost in a mix of joy, gratitude and something else. Some kind fulfillment, as if finally, for the first time in her entire life, it didn't seem like everything and everyone was working against her. She felt as if she belonged. As if she was welcome.

"'Cause we're far apart and my lonely heart finds it hard to get through the night. You pull me out of the dark and now it's light." She continued, her voice drifting off into the sky. Suddenly, the wind picked up, as if it were dancing to the music.

"I like the way that our arguments stop when we fall asleep and the way that your body feels when it's wrapped around me. And I'd like it if you made it to mine by Christmas Eve, so you can hold me.  
And we'll watch Christmas TV." She sang, as she burst into the chorus once more. The song went on and when Deni strummed out the final chord, Brennan clapped.

"Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week!" Deni called, bowing over her guitar.

"You are an amazing musician." Brennan grinned.

"Oh, thank you. Writing songs is kind of my pastime. I'm in a band. Well, a two person band. It's Indy-Folk music." She went on, placing her guitar in her lap.

"Well, that was beautiful." Brennan commented, "Really, Beautiful, Deni."

"Well, you were the inspiration." She smiled.

"How did I inspire you?" She asked, honestly curious. Deni pulled her guitar up again, pondering over the question for just a second.

"Because, after all you've been through, after everyone walking out on you, after all the rejection you've had to face and after retreating into your shell, I can see that you are an amazing person. You speak the truth, you don't just talk simply to be talking, you talk because you have something to say. You put one hundred percent of yourself into everything and you're not afraid to stare down the ugly monster that is reality. You know, people underestimate you. They just have to break through to you." She strummed a chord for dramatic appeal and gave a small goofy smile. Brennan glanced at her and without notice, plunged into a hug.

"Thank you." She whispered.

* * *

**Yeah, I had so many things I wanted to do with this chapter and it all kind of ended up as a big haphazarous mess..oops:)**

**I think I'll have about four more chapters and the story shall be completed!**

**Reviews, anyone? I'm buyin!**

**~Rhea~**

**Sweets: "Agent Booth, you've been trying to intimidate me ever since you stepped into this room, you've succeeded."  
****Bones: (in a bit of whisper to Booth) "Don't scare the boy."**


	14. Day Twenty Eight:Events

**So here is chapter 14! Sorry I haven't written anything, had a bit of family thing come up-not fun. **

**Anyway, thank you to everyone who reviewed, I appriciate it! It helps me learn from my mistakes:)**

**This story should be done pretty soon (maybe two more chapters)! **

* * *

He knew one of four events would occur. The first would be that the letter had somehow gotten mixed up in the mail system and had never actually made it to her.

The second would be that she would ignore him for the rest of forever. She had trust issues, he knew that, and the reason behind those trust issues was the abandonment she'd suffered throughout her life, he knew that too. He also had this feeling that he was abandoning her.

He was ditching their unique friendship, that had taken years to build up, for something more. And if she didn't want anything more, than he was abandoning their friendship. He scolded himself for being so paranoid (Hodgins must've been rubbing off on him), but the nagging thought that by helping himself, he was hurting her, wouldn't leave his mind.

The third would be that she would act as if nothing ever happened, allow her feelings to fester up into an ugly bomb that would explode in an inappropriate display of emotion, probably directed at him. He didn't like that option either.

The forth event that could possibly occur was by far the scariest in his mind. That event being that his feelings would be mutual, that she had the same level of passion for him as he did for her. This frightened him. He wanted her, but the prospect of having her, of diving head first into a new adventurous life with her, made the butterflies in his gut erupt into a lengthy song-and-dance routine, complete with a great deal of fluttering choreography.

The whole ordeal made him anxious. He kept regretting what he'd done and then scolding himself. There could be no regrets. He'd said what he'd needed to and what he'd wanted to. He couldn't go on working with her, living with her in his life, without revealing what he'd kept inside for so long. No, he could not regret what he'd done.

* * *

The first time he'd had to scold himself was when he was driving to the post office.

'It's not too late to turn back.' He told himself as he stopped at a red light. He inhaled and continued onward. As he pulled into the parking lot, he opened the envelope once more.

He smiled at the picture that Parker had drawn for her. He remembered the question he'd asked him as he was shuffling through his crayon box.

"What color are Bones's eyes?" He asked innocently.

"Blue." He answered simply, signing his John Hancock on another piece of paper work.

"I only have one color blue. Will this work?" He held up a bright teal. Booth set down his stack of forms and looked over at Parker's crayon box.

"It'll work. It's not exactly the right color, but I'm sure no one will mind." He smiled warmly.

"Well, I could go look in my bag for my other box of Crayolas, maybe the right color's in there.. What color blue are they?" Parker asked.

"They're…" He began, "You know what, buddy?" He tousled his son's messy blonde hair affectionately with his had.

"I'm not sure anyone can make a color like that. Not even Crayola." He grinned genuinely. Parker nodded and colored in her eyes with the electric teal.

Booth had smiled as he put the drawing back in the big manila envelope, making sure none of the corners were bent. He looked back up at the building that stood before him, and again the butterflies began to practice their routine. He took a deep breath and unfolded the letter once more, deciding to read again, for the last time, to make sure it wasn't too horrible.

He wasn't sure why he was nervous. He'd written these types of letters before many times (mostly in high school), but they were always a lot sappier. He wrote what the girl who'd be reading wanted to hear. The letters he'd written before were a means to an end. Take an hour to write something down and end up with something much more pleasing. But this one wasn't like that. This one was serious.

It had taken him much longer than an hour to write. Hell, it had taken him awhile just to decide how to address her. He thought 'Temperance' sounded too formal and he'd only ever called her that once or twice. Dr. Brennan was impersonal and cold, he didn't want that. Bones had seemed a little too informal, but that was her pet name. The name given to her by him, the subtle term of endearment and affection that he used everyday. Coming that conclusion had taken him almost thirty minutes.

Booth had taken a deep breath and cautiously slid letter out of the packet.

_Dear Bones, _

_For awhile, before I was assigned to be your partner, I didn't want to go to work. It was boring and all I did was sit at my cube and fill out paperwork. I almost thought about quitting, but then you came along (I know it's cliché, but it's the honest truth). I love working with you. You don't understand a lot of stuff, but you understand me (most of the time), and that's enough. You speak your mind and aren't afraid of offending people, which, while sometimes it's rude, I find refreshing. You know how to stand up for yourself and you put intensity and power into everything. You don't let a detail go unnoticed and you like to get caught up in your work, but on a rare occasion, you do something so daring I wouldn't even consider it. You demand respect and I think that's incredible. But mostly, you have passion. Passion for what you love. _

_You are truly an amazing woman. _

_I remember when I first met you; I'd look into your eyes and see ice. Now, when I look into those sterling baby blues of yours, I see laughter and I see happiness and I see the wonders of the world projecting out of them. You have beautiful eyes. They match your smile and your laugh, which are both amazing. I love your laugh, it's so carefree and alive, it makes me wish I could hold your hand and be by your side and make you laugh all day._

_I know it makes you uncomfortable, but kissing you was the most breathtaking and amazing thing that's ever happened to me. I want to kiss you again, but for real this time. . I understand if you don't feel it, but I think we've got something. I think we've got energy and electricity that I don't think I can deny any longer. I think that, maybe…I might be in love with you. _

_If that makes you feel weird, I'll ask to be reassigned. I'll be gone, you'll never hear from me or see me again, I promise. I just needed to get that out of my system. _

_Everybody misses you a lot; I miss you a lot. Call me when the plane lands in London. _

_Seeley Booth_

_Ps. Sorry the letters so poorly written, after all, I'm not exactly Temperance Brennan._

He closed his eyes. He'd wanted it to be longer, but he'd found himself at a loss for words. He closed up the envelope and marched to his doom, going past the point of no return as he dropped the letter in the box.

* * *

Ten days and eight hours of sleep later, he couldn't stop thinking about it. It was keeping him up at night. He was so anxious that he found himself bouncing his foot whenever he was at his desk. He went to medicine cabinet and took a few of his anxiety meds that had been prescribed so long ago, but they did nothing for him. He wanted September to go away. He didn't even want September to be a month. He just wanted the time to fly by and bring her to him so this torture would end.

As he thought this, Angela's voice projected through his head.

"Good things come to those who wait." He could hear her naughty smile bleed through her voice. He squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to sleep.

* * *

**So, what'd you think? Be honest! **

**~Rhea~**

**"I don't think tapping asses is appropriate to talk about in front of the deceased."- Zach (pilot episode)**


	15. Day Thirty Seven: Flight

**So, the almost final chapter! A 'Wannabe in the Weeds' of sorts (just not nearly as good and with no where NEAR as big a cliffhanger.) I might actually have the final chapter up tonight, it depends. I've got lots of ideas, but I'm not sure how to combine them and not make it cheesier than intended. **

**Also, the rating will change for the last chapter! **

**(only to T, though-No graphic stuff, I'm only 14, **

**I have innocence to uphold-insert smile here-) **

**Dislcaimer: Fox and I had a duel of sorts to see who would win the TV show Bones SPOILER ALERT: they won. I don't own bones.**

* * *

It had been two weeks since she'd gotten the letter. Fourteen days. Fourteen long days of nothing but digging deeper and deeper into the ground. Fourteen days of aching and longing to return home, to return to him. She'd felt uncompleted and empty and all she wanted was to leave that place.

Finally, after extending the search parameters a good sixteen meters in all directions, they'd come to one result: Their work was done, their expertise was no longer needed, and they were free to go.

Brennan had begun to pack her things a few days earlier, as she'd predicted that they would not find any more bodies, so she mostly just organized and reorganized and assisted Deni in her packing.

Not long after that, they'd boarded a caravan of jeeps and were driven to Gaborone, the capital of Botswana where they began the laborious process of boarding a plane to London.

* * *

Brennan ordinarily did not mind airports, they were a nice place to people watch, to observe sociological behaviors and actions, but on that day, all she wanted was to hurry up and get through security so that she could get to where she so desperately wanted to be.

She looked down at her watch and knew that by the time she arrived at Reagan in DC, it would be so late at night that it would actually be morning. She roughly did the math in her head. one thirty, if all went well. She bit her lip and felt Deni poke her between the shoulder blades.

"What?" She asked, annoyed and anxious.

"It's your turn." She said simply, as she bent down to remove her flip flops and place them in the bin. Brennan nodded and began to remove her coat and shoes as well.

For the first time in a while, she made it through security without having someone perform a suspicious search. The butterflies in her stomach raced as she recalled back to when Booth had her held in custody after her trip back from Guatemala. Times were different then. So different.

For one thing, back then if she was yearning to be in his arms, encased by his musular chest, she'd have scolded herself and would turn her mind to something else, but now, as she was thinking about how his warm, solid arms would wrap around her and never let go, she didn't stop (and didn't want to stop) her mind from dwelling on the subject. Now it was a whole new ballgame.

She sighed and glanced down at her watch again, looking up at Deni, who unfortunately, had picked up her bad luck and was currently being searched with the magnetic wand. The alarm sounded as it waved past her pocket. She smiled sheepishly as he pulled out her house key that had been stuffed in there for whatever reason. The officer let her go, but confiscated the key.

"How much time do we have?" She asked as she approached Brennan.

"Um, just about two hours. I suppose we should get some coffee and a snack of some sort." She added. Deni nodded and they began walking. Brennan looked around, secretly wishing that there was a homeland security officer following her.

* * *

Brennan shimmied her way into her seat, maneuvering past the flight attendants and various people trying desperately to fit things into over head bins. She sat down in the last seat in first class, her back to the curtain that separated them from coach. She didn't know why, but she could already tell that this was going to be a long flight.

Sleeping was not her intention, but the blindfold fell over her eyes anyway. She stared into the dark abyss as her ears popped form the pressure of the plane reaching it's cruising altitude, 36,000 feet.

* * *

There were images playing out on the black silk that shielded her eyes.

She kept playing over what was going to happen. She knew that one of two events would take place. The first was that he'd only written the letter because he needed to vent his sexual frustrations; after all he hadn't been in a relationship in more than a year (and she liked to think he hadn't had sex in more than a year). If he was venting, than it was possible that he didn't mean any of it. Not a single word. She thought back to the many times she'd been in an angry rage and had told Russ or Angela and even her father that she hated them, but she didn't mean it. She never meant it.

The second option was simply that his words had come from his heart. That he had true honesty behind what he'd said, backing it up. She liked that idea much more. She licked her lips ever so slightly as she thought back to his lips fusing with hers, even if it was for only a second.

His kisses were exactly as she'd imagined them, skillful, passionate and knee buckling- and those were just blackmail and casual 'corner-of-the-mouth' kisses, she didn't know what a real, genuine, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue, breath to breath Seeley Booth kiss was like yet, but she knew it would be like nothing she'd ever had before.

She stopped mid thought and analyzed what was currently running through her mind. Did she intend of kissing Booth? She made a slight mental pinchy face and then came to her conclusion. Yes, she was going to kiss Booth.

At that point, with her mind content and at rest, she closed her eyes and put her thoughts at bay. Her breathing slowed and she began to nap in almost total peace for the first time since she'd left.

* * *

She awoke to the sensation of her ears being filled with pressure. Sitting upright, she lifted the blindfold just in time to see that the seat belt button was flashing and the flight attendant was about to speak over the intercom.

"Please return your seats and tray tables to their upright locked position. We will be landing shortly, at which point we ask that you remain seated with your seat belt buckled." She set down the phone and the ears of the passengers in the cabin all seemed to pop at once. Brennan gathered her things and sat her chair up, letting her hair down, and then pushing it back into a pony tail.

* * *

She watched the rest of the passengers exit, but remained on, waiting for Deni to appear from behind the curtain. She finally did, walking as if her knees were jelly, her eyes tired and a dark shade of olive instead of the normally sunny emerald green.

"You don't look as though you had a good flight." She commented.

"The kid behind me was kicking my seat mercilessly and I didn't catch a wink of sleep." She yawned as if to format her words. Brennan nodded, taking her bag for her. They walked off the plane and into the tunnel together.

"So what time's your flight?" Brennan asked her. Deni looked down at her itinerary.

"Uh..Six hours. I'm gonna catch a cab and find somewhere to go. You?" She asked.

"The flight to DC departs in three hours." She responded, glancing up at the signs above them to see where exactly the baggage claim was located. They walked down a long hall and found the series of rotating belts.

"South African Airlines, yes?" Deni asked as they read the electronic boards to find their flight number. Brennan nodded, pointing out their exact belt. They began to walk over to it, when the passed a series of payphones hanging on the wall. The letter. He had told her to call him when she arrived in London so that he could pick her up from the airport back home.

"What's wrong?" Deni asked, catching the look she was making. She seriously considered telling her, but then decided against it. She didn't want to be a bother, making Booth get all dressed to come pick her up at that unholy hour. No, she'd drive herself home…or, seeing as he'd drove her to the airport to begin with, she'd take a cab or the Metro.

"…nothing." She finally said, her moment of hesitation past behind her.

* * *

Deni walked with Brennan to her gate, carrying her bag on her shoulder.

"Now boarding American Airlines flight 722 to Washington DC, Now boarding American Airlines flight 722 to Washington DC." The woman at the desk announced.

"I guess this is it, then." Deni said, handing her the bag.

"Deni. Do you like working where you do now?" She asked.

"Sure. I guess. I'd much rather work in an institute like you than at the Miami natural history museum." She shrugged sardonically.

"Really? Because I have a position open at the Jeffersonian Institute. I mean, you'd have to interview with my boss first, but she'll take anyone." She responded, not bothering to mask the excitement in her voice.

"Seriously?" She asked, pulling Brennan into a small hug.

"Absolutely. You're more than qualified." She responded over her shoulder. They released each other and Brennan pulled her bag over her shoulder, taking out one of her buisness cards and handing it over.

"It was a privilege working with you, Dr. Brennan. I look forward to seeing you soon." She nodded her green eyes suddenly alive and glowing.

"The feeling is mutual." She told her.

She entered the tunnel and looked back to see Deni waving. She gave a quick wave and looked ahead of her. She did not look back again; she looked forward, her stomach uneasy. She didn't know what was going to happen, but she could only hope for the best.

* * *

**There it is! Soooo, what'dcha think? come on, you know you want to, just reach down and press that handy little review button!**

**~Rhea~**

**Brennan: Why would a gang leader cooperate?  
Booth: I'm gonna ask him really, really nicely, Bones.  
Brennan: You know that book I'm reading about getting along with your co-workers? It says that sarcasm is never helpful. I can lend it to you if you want.**


	16. Day Thirty Eight: Return

**So, I just wanted to say that this has been the most fun thing to write! I really like it and I hope you enjoyed it, too:) **

**Just a few notes, **

**please note the rating change, it's a pg-13 rated chaptah! **

**If the tense is confusing, I'll go ahead and tell you that the first few paragraphs are NOT a dream sequence, they're actually present tense, then a flash back, then back to present, if that makes any sense. **

**Also, I've never, ever written anything beyond harmless fluff, so this whole 'almost smutt' thing is new and unexplored territory, especially because I can't speak from experience (to be honest, I've never kissed anyone before) but that is no excuse on my part.**

**Review, please! **

* * *

She had never been this intoxicated. Not from alcohol, but from another a person. She had never felt this kind of passion. A fire burning from deep inside her, emitting warmth and radiating fervor that filled the room. A bolt of vehemence shook through her and she felt alive for the first time in years.

He had never been so nervous as long as he'd lived. He'd had bullets pierce his flesh, he'd had the cold blades of many knives pressed promisingly against his neck, he'd been held at gunpoint more times than he could begin to remember, he'd been tortured and blown up, but now, the anxiety in his touch was palpable.

However, this was the good kind of nervous, the kind of nervous he received when he registered for the Military, the kind of nervous he had wrenching through his body when his son was born- the kind of nervous that made your hands quake and breath shaky, whilst you know something amazing was going to come of all this.

Both their eyes grow dark, hers a navy blue and his almost black with desire, passion, lust and a seething underbelly of not want, but _need_.

* * *

It was two thirty in the morning and the last thing he wanted to hear was a knock on his door. He groaned as the joints in his knees stiffened. He sat up and rubbed his hand over his face a few times, trying to appear the slightest bit awake. He was so disheveled he'd forgotten to throw his robe on, so he shuffled to the door, yawning in nothing but his navy blue boxers and a pair of rainbow striped socks, one pulled all the way up, one rung down around his ankle. He coughed to clear his throat and opened the door without first looking in the peep hole.

As he saw her there, in her white tank top and blue jeans, her hair messy, he blinked and almost shut the door. It had to be a dream. She wasn't supposed to be back for another month. She was going to call him, in a month, in London, so he could pick her up at the airport. She couldn't possibly be standing there.

"Bones." He choked out, his voice so soft it was barely audible.

* * *

She never knew one word could come with so much emotion attached to it. But from him, she heard hope, surprise, contentment, passion, thoughtfulness, joy, gratitude, welcome ness, comfort and the slightest flicker of yearning.

She was caught up in a web of thoughts, not only trying to grasp the way he'd said her name, but also drinking him in.

She'd seen him naked exactly two times before. The first time was during their trip to Vegas. He didn't know that she'd seen him, but she had. She was asleep and he was getting out of the shower. He walked out of the bathroom to get a shirt from their bedside table and just as he began digging through the drawer, his towel fell down around his ankles. That just so happened to be the exact moment that her eyes fluttered open from her restful night of sleep. She almost gasped at the site of him, but she decided to keep it low key, so she just watched as he cursed and pulled the towel back up around his hips, glancing over to her to see that she was still asleep (at which point she hurriedly closed her eyes). It had honestly taken almost every ounce of control to keep her from reaching out and touching. And that was three years ago.

The second time was when she'd burst into his bathroom a while back. If she wasn't so mad, she probably would have given into the sight of him and lost all control, but again, she had been quite furious at him.

But this was nothing like those two times. For one thing, he was not naked. He had boxers on. But aside from the obvious, This time, she had the chance to actually look at him. The hallway light shone down on all of his definitions, creating shadows where his collar bone dipped down and making perfect highlights, illuminating all of his scars.

She saw one in particular. The long slender line that ran from his right pectoral to below his boxers in a land, so far, unseen by her eyes. For whatever reason, she found herself wanting to trace the scar with her tongue, trace all of his scars with her tongue, making him shiver beneath her delicate mouth. She shook the thoughts away, this wasn't about lust. She was going to kiss him. As a test, to see how he really felt. And she'd continue as she saw fit from there.

"Can I come in?" She asked, already halfway inside. He nodded, his eyes suddenly awake, his joints no longer aching, his heart no longer in his chest, but stuck in his throat. He closed the door behind her.

"You should've called me." He commented, still standing there awkwardly in his boxers and socks. She just nodded.

Instinctively, he ran his tongue cleanly over his lips, as if he knew what was about to happen. He looked into her eyes, which were filled with sincerity.

"Did you mean what you said?" She asked. His stomach flipped and he could feel the nervous quakes plaguing his hands. It was awhile before he answered. He was too mesmerized by her.

"I always mean what I say." He concluded.

With that Brennan slowly pressed her lips to his. It was soft and gentle and sweet and a tiny sigh escaped both of their throats. She was convinced. Their lips disconnected, but they remained there, lingering, trying as hard as they possibly could to maintain self control.

She was going to say that she thought maybe she loved him too, but Booth, being the sexually deprived, in love with his partner, man that he is, quickly pushed his hand into her hair and pulled her down for another kiss, this one was more of what she'd been anticipating.

She moaned from far back in her throat as she learned that his skillful tongue was more delicate and gentle than she'd imagined as it found its way into her mouth. It danced over hers teasingly. She was still shell-shocked at the magnitude of him that she hadn't joined in until now. Her own tongue began to graze over his as they tasted each other.

They finally broke apart, Brennan's eyes wide and a touch or two darker, glinting with desire.

"What are you doing?" She asked, not a trace of angry or surprise or frustration in her voice. It came out more playfully seductive than she'd wanted it to.

"Jumping into the fire." He quoted in a deep, throaty voice laced with temptation and charm.

At that, she melted. His eyes were almost as dark as coals and it sent his throbbing over the edge as she let out an, 'I don't know what that means'.

"Of course you don't." He moaned.

Their bodies pressed as close together as physically possible and she felt his rock solid form engulf her as he kissed her porcelain throat, his tongue entertaining the sensitive flesh, making her tremor beneath him.

He led his mouth down to her collar bone and dipped his tongue gently, though firmly, into the hollow point there, making her let out a pleasurable moan that irradiated through her chest, vibrating into his own mouth, making him elicit a similar reaction.

He needed to keep going, but suddenly lost track of his hands. He then realized that they were sliding up her shirt and feeling up her sides, ending right below her breasts. That's when he stopped.

"Don't stop." She whispered, less of a command and more of a plea, a whine.

"No. We can't do this." He grasped to his self control.

"Why not?" She asked, looking into his eyes, which were still dark as coal.

"Because. We're partners." He put his hands on her upper arms and felt her muscles relax under his touch.

"You kind of already crossed the line with your letter." She raised her eyebrows.

"I know…I just need to know that isn't just going to be some one night stand. I can't work with you like that."

Her eyes went ablaze.

"So that's what you think? You think that the level of my affection for you is equivalent to a one night stand? I can't believe you and your alpha male- She was cut off by him swallowing her words. He sucked her bottom lip to the point that it almost hurt.

'So much for him wanting to stop.' She thought to herself, not kissing back, but allowing him to have his way with her sore bottom lip. He released her and she pulled her head into the crevice between his brawny shoulder and his neck.

She breathed on him, noting the effect it had on him, as his breathing became more rapid and he began to throb even more into her hip, and a small, prideful smile graced her lips. She whispered deeply into his ear,

"With us, it would be much, _much _more than a one night stand." He inhaled sharply.

"You really want to do this?" He commented more than questioned. She whispered into his ear,

"Yes." She affirmed her tongue pressing smoothly along the skin behind his ear. He shuddered and a small verbal outburst of pleasure escaped from deep inside his throat and again she smiled, proud that she could affect him as much as he could her. He came back down,

"Positive?" He asked his black eyes sincere.

"Booth?" She asked, pulling at the waist bad of his boxers. He swallowed hard, his Adams apple bobbing up in his throat.

"Yes?" He asked.

"Shut up." She smiled, shimming the boxers down with both her hands. She leaned in and whispered into his ear, her breath creating a film of condensation on his already sweaty neck.

"Now, take me where we both want to go." Needless to say, Booth happily obliged.

* * *

She was stirred awake by rays of light inching their way into his bedroom. She moved ever so slightly, finding that she was wrapped in the arms of him. His eyes fluttered open and saw that she was laying there with him.

"Your still here." He commented.

"Like I said, I'm _not_ gonna leave you. You and me, we're not just a role in the oats." She tried to use a cliché unsuccessfully.

He smiled and shook his head.

"It's a role in the hay, Bones, a role in the hay." her hair was a complete mess, her mascara was smudged all over her eyes and her lips were swollen, but she was more beautiful than he'd ever seen her.

"You're beautiful." He commented. She just smiled and said, very quietly,

"That's why I love you."

* * *

**So there it is! The end! As I said, I've enjoyed this a lot, and the response has been amazing! **

**I'm probably not going to write much more after this, unless a one shot pops into that little head of mine:)**

**So tell me what you thought of it!**

**X's and O's to you all, **

**~Rhea~**

**"I'm with Bones, Cam. Don't doubt it for a second."- Booth.**


	17. Day Thirty Nine: Pie

**Epilouge! **

* * *

"'scuse me, do you know where I could find Dr. Brennan?" A light, airy voice ebbed from behind the tall artist who'd found herself walking toward her office.

"She didn't show up for work today, but I think she'll be back tomorrow. Of course it would help if she'd answer her phone…" Angela muttered.

"Oh. She's with Booth, right?" The voice asked.

Angela turned around, a quizzical eyebrow peaking further up her forehead than normal.

"Who are you?" She asked, not in a particularly rude manner, just as a generally curious question.

"Deni Masters. I'm Dr. Brennan's new assistant." She stuck out her hand, which was met by Angela's warm grin and a friendly shake.

"Brennan told me all about you. Nice to have you join our screwed up little family."

"Thank you. And you're…Angela?" She asked, trying to bring the name to the forefront of her mind.

"You got it."

"Well I guess I'll just jump in where need be for today. I wish Dr. Brennan was here. But in all honesty, I think this will be good for her."

"Deni, you have read my mind." Angela smiled.

"I try, I try." She beamed playfully.

"Say, have you been down to the Diner of Fourth Street?"

"Not yet, but Dr. Brennan told me all about it. Apparently they have the best apple pie in the city." Angela smirked at the thought of it,

"She would..."

"I'm gonna go round up the rest of the crew and we're taking you out for lunch."

"And pie?" Deni asked hopefully.

"And pie." Angela smiled.

Already she could sense a beautiful new bond being formed…

* * *

**Might turn this into a seperate story, who knows:)**

**~RMM**


End file.
